


Just Another Unwilling Party Guest

by Demidea



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Christmas Party, First Meetings, Liontrust Secret Santa 2k16, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demidea/pseuds/Demidea
Summary: There's no reason for Anduin to attend his brother-in-law's Christmas Party. No reason at all. At least, not one he knows until after the party is over.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMonkey/gifts).



Lothar hates Christmas parties. Well. That would generalize unfairly against Christmas parties. He hates his  _ family _ at Christmas parties. Okay, so that’s not entirely true. His family tends to know how to throw a party, though  _ some people _ (Medivh) like to get a little too deep into the eggnog. He hates how his family acts around  _ him _ at a Christmas parties. So really it's a wonder that a last minute SOS text from his brother-in-law, through clever manipulation, incentivized chores, and a surprise appearance from his sister with one of his suits freshly dry-cleaned in tow, he was here. In the ballroom of some ridiculous venue. Dressed up in a suit. Drinking egg nog. At a Wrynn Family (™) Christmas Party. Standing next to a very smug Taria.

“Why am I here again? Isn’t this a work event?”

“It is,” Taria confirms, her smile already languid, cheeks touched pink by the whiskey in the egg nog.

“I don’t work for you,” Lothar complains. Half-heartedly, because as of yet, nothing terrible has happened. Yet. It's only been ten minutes since the party hit its stride, they had a night to go yet.

“Don’t be silly, of course not.” Her eyes are roaming. She’s either going to abandon him, or is searching the crowd for eligible women (or men, though that generally wasn't common knowledge) to foist him upon. Her eyes light up, and she raises her glass. Lothar follows her gaze across the room, where he sees Llane, surrounded by business associates, returning he toast with a smile. “You work for him.”

“I hate you both.”

“No, you don't.” Her smile lingers, but her tone is business functional. “Now you're going to have two more drinks, loosen up, and not glare at every stranger that comes within five feet of you.”

“Is that what I'm going to do?” He asks sourly, swallowing down the last of his glass. “Next you’ll ask me for the cure to puberty.”

“Anduin.” She’s lost her patience with him.

“I know.” He can go too far sometimes. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.” She purses her lips, but shrugs it off. They stand in silence for a full minute, surveying the party, before she asks, “Is there-?”

“Nope. You’re doomed to watch your adorable little runts turn into snotty, whiny, significantly taller monsters.”

“Damn.” One of Taria’s friends catch her eye and waves her over. She waves back, then fixes her brother with a stern stare. “Well then, I’m going to go enjoy myself. Do the same”

Lothar smiles. Or, he thinks he smiles. His lips tighten and push up, at least. Taria doesn’t seem convinced, though she melts into the crowd (which had, indeed, become a crowd while they talked).

Right. Enjoy himself. He lets his gaze wander around the ballroom of the venue Llane had chosen. The room before decoration had been grand in and of itself, white floors and pillars stark against the wood panelled walls, sweeping rooms that bled into one another. Now, festooned with wreaths and baubles and banners and ribbons, all royal blue and gold with hints of silver, it was stately, and, with the crowd of people wrapped like gifts in expensive, gaudy suits and dresses, imposing.

With some dismay, he realizes Taria picked his own suit to match the decor.

The whiskey bar it was, then.

 

###  First Meeting #1

“Excuse me, excuse me.” The newcomer’s tone is meant to be polite, but is so strained all intent was lost. A newbie to the scene, then. Likely an aide, though who would be so cruel as to bring an aide fresh off the educational production line to something as socially complex as a Wrynn family party was beyond Lothar. Relations between companies bloomed and died here, as did the careers of those attending. Lothar listens from his bar stool, as the voice gradually gets closer and closer, until the form of a young man presses up against the bar directly to Lothar’s left. “Excuse me. You haven’t made a drink for Medivh in the last fifteen minutes, would you have?”

Ah. Medivh. That would explain it. The bartender finishes his pour, but spares a minute to consider, then shake his head. The boy drums his fingers his fingers on the bar’s lip, shoulders tense.

“At this point, you’ll have better luck finding Medivh by listening very carefully,” Lothar says, and the boy’s attention snaps to him.

“What do you mean?” There’s something about the way he says it. Candid. Impolitic. It’s enough to drag Lothar’s eyes from his glass and spare a glance. Light, he’s young, his beard just starting to fill in, a roundness to his face that could either be youth or genes. But his eyes never waver. Lothar takes another sip, summing the boy up.

Medivh never chooses uninteresting assistants. Speaking of, there’s a distant clap, like lightning, from across the hall, causing quite a few guests to jump and taking the boy’s attention. “There he is,” Lothar says simply.

“Right. Um.” The boy’s gaze darts back to Lothar for a split second. “Thanks.”

And he jumps into the crowd, hurrying to the source of the commotion. Lothar watches him leave, appreciating the way he filled his suit. Then, after allowing a head start, makes his way through the crowd in the same direction. Allowing Medivh to run rampant would do no one any good.

Besides, Lothar didn’t catch the boy’s name. He thinks he might like to know.

 

###  First Meeting #2

“Lothar!” Medivh’s voice booms, filling half the hall. Lothar checks his watch. One hour in, and Medivh is already tipsy. This was going to be a long night.

The traitorous crowd parts, allowing Medivh to beeline to him. 

“Medivh.” Lothar says in reply, and though he’s hesitant to say he’s glad to see his friend, he doesn’t hesitate to step into the brief hug. Over Medivh’s shoulder, a young man weaves through the crowd as it closes around him. “You got started early.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy. Tipsy, and happy to see you.”

“Sir.” The boy doesn’t stop until he’s directly at Medivh’s right elbow, seemingly with the intent of leading him off.

“Oh, right, I forgot you were with me.” Medivh turning side to include the boy in their conversation. “This is Khadgar, my assistant. For now.”

Khadgar offers Lothar a tight smile. There’s something about his eyes… They could be captivating if they didn’t look pained.

“Assistant?” Lothar repeats. Khadgar’s handshake is warm and firm, and doesn’t flinch at Lothar’s grip. “You don’t have assistants.”

“I know.” Medivh’s eyes travel back and forth between them. “Khadgar, this is Lothar. He’s perpetually single.”

Immediately, Lothar breaks eye contact to glare. Khadgar’s brow furrows, his lips tilting up. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

That grabs both Medivh and Lothar’s attention, and the longer they stare, the more confused Khadgar appears. Finally, Medivh breaks the silence. “I think, Lothar, that you were just called too attractive to be single.”

“I- No?” Khadgar’s eyes flit back and forth between them with panic, a blush creeping up his neck. “Not that you aren't, but that’s not quite what I was trying to convey?”

“So you do think I’m attractive?” Lothar asks.

Khadgar sighs, his face an interesting shade of pink. “You're very attractive.” Then looks at Medivh. “What were you drinking again? I'm going to take you up on that drink after all.”

Lothar holds up a hand. “Why don’t I get your drink for you.”

The blush he received was worth the knowing look from Medivh.

###  First Meeting #3

Around hour two after mingling began, Llane approaches the raised podium on the opposite end of the ballroom as the bar. He and Taria are making toasts, each punctuated by a somewhat tipsy interjection from Medivh. Nothing embarrassing, so far, but he would need reigning in as the night continued.

“Lothar, sir,” it’s Varis, looking somewhat sheepish. “Sorry to interrupt your night, but we have a situation.”

“ _ Finally. _ ” Lothar pushes off the bar, striding past Varis for the exit. “Where is it? What’s happening?”

Varis, for the most part, is able to keep up with Lothar. “We have a man at the entrance who insists he’s Medivh’s assistant.”

“Medivh doesn’t keep assistants.” A fact so widely well known, to claim otherwise suggested a level of audacity he couldn’t wait to hear explained. He bursts through door to see two harried bouncers and young man with a mouth too pretty to be turned around in sneer.

Lothar almost lets him off easy.

“Are you in charge here?” the boy asks, just irritable and inordinately ungracious enough that it needles Lothar in just the right way.

He can maintain eye contact, Lothar will give him that. A slow smile spreads across his face. “You could say that.”

“Great. Then you know-”

“That Medivh doesn’t have assistants.”

“Yes, well-”

“ _ But _ he would take a temp on and not inform anyone.”

“So-”

“And it’s  _ possible _ he’d forget to tell Llane he was bringing a plus one.”

“It’s almost like you know him.” Halfway through, Lothar starts talking over him, but this time the boy persists and finishes his sentence anyway.

“So assuming all those possibilities are the case, that leaves me with one question. Why didn’t you come in with him?”

The boy’s eyes are bright with frustration, but he doesn’t respond immediately. After another beat, he decides to try again. “Oh, can I speak-”

Which is exactly what Lothar is waiting for. He offers his arm. “Let’s go ask him ourselves, shall we?”

His intended companion eyes it with distrust. “Are you serious.”

“I wouldn’t let you into a private venue uninvited without an escort.”

“I  _ was _ invited.” His eyebrows raise when Lothar insists he takes his arm. “You're serious.”

“Very,” Lothar replies brightly, “and if you let go, I have two others that’ll gladly take both your arms and bring you right back here.”

The boy sighs, a fraction of an impulse away from rolling his eyes, but ultimately takes Lothar’s arm. Immediately, Lothar yanks him into a trot. “My name is Khadgar, by the way. If you care.”

“Is it? That is useful. Especially if I have to file a trespass order later.”

The boy, Khadgar, groans.

 

###  First Meeting #4

Apparently, two glasses of whiskey and a pint of the holiday microbrew are all the prerequisites Lothar needs to forget his initial promise to stay surly and unsociable throughout the night, because around his second pint he finds himself in a pocket of old friends and associates, including Llane, laughing about old times. He's so into the conversation he loses track of where they stand (which he didn't much care about so long as the bar remained in sight and the bartender could catch his eye), nor does he notice the conversations going on around him, despite the multiple glances his way. Eventually, Aloman takes pity and taps him on the shoulder.

“Lothar. You're standing under mistletoe.”

Instant sobriety feels like a cross between a suckerpunch and an unexpected bucked of cold water to the face, and he’d prefer it right now to the tipsy, struck dumb feeling that has him rooted to the floor. He makes the mistake of looking up to confirm, then around at the circle of faces currently staring back at him with mixed emotions. There’s an uncomfortable silence for all of a minute, because if Lothar wasn’t related to them they were in a relationship or otherwise in a direct conflict of interest based on their position in Llane’s company. Yet the only thing worse than unwilling kisses was the awkwardness of no kiss at all.

Rather than stare at anyone in particular, he chooses to glare up at the decoration itself. “I suppose kissing a shot of whiskey doesn’t count.”

Movement drags his attention back to the crowd. A young man, no more than a boy, steps closer, a little hesitant but clearly offering. He must be new, and part of a department Lothar doesn’t interact with at all because he’d remember those lips.

Lothar straightens up, which halts the boy’s progression slightly, but when Lothar’s eyes dart to his lips, they tilt up into a smile. Not a shy smile, either, an honest one that revealed good intentions but also a little mischief that bordered outright challenge. No one says a word as this kid steps into Lothar’s space, so close they’re almost chest to chest. He hasn’t been drinking, Lothar would smell it the way he no doubt could smell the whiskey Lothar just downed.

For a split second, the rest of the ballroom is blocked out by huge brown eyes, and then pale eyelids. Then Lothar’s eyes, too, are closed, and a pair of soft lips press into his own, wet at the crease.

He’s dizzy when they part. “What was that for?”

They boy shrugs, and Lothar’s a little smug to see dilated pupils. “Couldn’t figure out why no one else snapped that opportunity up. Plus? I wanted to.”

“Oh.” Lothar replies, all he can manage as the headiness runs it's course. The boy flashes another smile, quick and definitely mischievous, and disappears back into the crowd. “Huh.”

Lothar resists the urge to touch his lips, staring out after the boy. Interesting. He'd have to find him later.

 

* * *

 

A New Year Later

Lothar hates Christmas parties. Not that he can find fault in any one thing (except Christmas-themed lingerie. No one should wear Christmas-themed lingerie except for the express purpose of removing it and throwing it into the fireplace as soon as possible). Food? Fine. Family? Great. He could even get into the goodwill thing when he was really up to it. No, Lothar hates Christmas because everyone found a way to be so damn  _ busy _ all the time.

He can tell already Khadgar, who was already freakishly prone to being busy anyway, was no exception. From his perch leaning against a pillar in the main ballroom, he’s already spent three hours watching Khadgar help Taria take a chaos of shipping containers and a handful of volunteers and through together an admittedly spectacular display. But Lothar is bored, and Khadgar has been holiday this and that-ing since November, so not only was he bored, he was  _ neglected _ .

Which is why, as soon as Khadgar stepped up to the bar for some water, he prowls up.    
Planting kisses into Khadgar’s neck, he revels in how easily his lover eases into the embrace and tilts to expose more skin.

“Hello to you, too,” Khadgar laughs.

“I want to help.” Lothar’s hands wanders around Khadgar’s belly, stroking and teasing, particularly at the thin strip of expose flesh when his sweater rides up.

“You call this helping?” Khadgar asks, but his breathing betrays him when it hitches in response to Lothar’s thumbs dipping under the waistband of his pants. He turns his head and brushes his lips over Lothar’s stubble.

“I think I’m doing a fine job spreading holiday cheer.” Lothar takes a step forward, pinning Khadgar to the lip of the bar.

“The only thing you want to spread is me.” Khadgar grinds back in response, but only enough to be an insufferable tease.

“Oops. You caught me.” Finally, (finally!) Lothar gets his mouth on Khadgar’s for a real kiss. It lasts far longer than it should, but Lothar can never get enough of the way Khadgar tastes and neither can claim to be very good at reigning themselves in. When they do part, he’s winded. “I think.” To hide it he plants more kisses, fleeting and not at all revenge for having to ambush his lover for a little affection. “We should.” They work wonderfully, with Khadgar making a tiny noise of want every time Lothar pulls out of reach. “Go home.”

“To change?”

“I promise to undress you, but nothing beyond that.”

“We’re coming back to this party, Lothar.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, but his smile is fond if not exasperated. They will be coming back here tonight. They owe it their family and friends, and a little to themselves. “Happy anniversary, love.”

Khadgar smiles back, the flash of pure delight that warmed the light in Lothar’s chest, and merely kisses him again in response.


End file.
